


At The Bottom of the Blackest Hole

by brittastyles (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Clubbing, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, the cheating does not involve nick ok he's just harry's friend in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/brittastyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was half in love with everyone he’d ever met and Louis didn’t like sharing.</p><p>[otherwise known as "boys who don't talk about their feelings with the right people and in turn make their lives very complicated"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When It Rains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catholicschoolgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/gifts).



> [Please let me know if there's something I should have tagged that I missed!]
> 
> Okay, hi! I'm writing this for Jasmine, because we both have a thing for cheating fics. Thanks for everyone who's cheering me on and was excited when I capslocked ALERT THE MEDIA I'M PUBLISHING PART ONE.  
> Thanks to Harry Not Styles for the beta & general awesomeness. Fic title and chapter title taken from the Paramore song "When It Rains." 
> 
> This isn't associated with One Direction, this is not my opinion of the boys and I've got no idea if this has ever happened in real life it's not my business, yo! Respect what remains of the Fourth Wall, plz.

Harry stared at Louis like something was wrong with his face, and Louis heard the condescending tone of his rejection before he uttered a word, and after four nights in a row of apologetic frowns and shrugged “sorry, I’ve got plans” Louis had had enough.

 

"Don't wait up up for me. I'll be home late." Louis' voice remained steady as he called out for Harry, emotionless, calm. His insides twisted and a pang of guilt coursed through his veins as he opened the front door, checking his back pocket to make sure his phone was still there. For a moment he considered staying home, settling in on the couch beside Harry, taking the first step in addressing one of the many problems they'd recently encountered, but Harry's eyes were fixed on the bright screen in front of him, oblivious to Louis' internal struggle. Or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, Louis gulped down the remaining bits of guilt, pulled on his black, faux leather jacket, and left the apartment.

 

Harry didn't say goodbye, and Louis hadn't expected him to.

 

The club was packed, bright strobe lights illuminating the room full of bodies. Louis stood in the middle of the dance floor, past the point of tipsy, without a care in the world. There was a body behind him, hands pulling him close by his waist, no boyfriend to keep him from talking to the pretty boys who handed him drinks.  And maybe that stung more than it should, to know that these strangers wanted him more than the curly haired boy he’d left at home did.

He'd called Liam as soon he’d closed the door to his and Harry’s flat, trying to keep himself calm as he ran down the stairs of their building and was met with nothing but cold air. He’d hoped to get advice on how to deal with missing Harry, maybe talk himself out of the idea that the boy he'd been in love with for the last three years was slowly losing interest in him, but Liam’s kind words couldn’t change the fact that recently, Harry had only invited him out twice, and stayed home with him even less. Liam's voice had been drenched in pity as he suggested the two get away for the night, have some time to themselves, and Louis hadn't been in the mood to watch Harry prepare for another night out with _Nick Grimshaw_ so he’d agreed.

If Harry had no qualms about finding someone to spend his time with, essentially replacing Louis while being cruel enough to string him along instead of just breaking up with him, then maybe Louis could do the same.

They ended up at a club, after much discussion that ended with Louis nearly crying as he pleaded with Liam. Liam might have protested if this were under different circumstances, chastised Louis for drinking too much, warned him that this wasn't the right way to deal with the situation, but neither of them had any idea how to handle this. So Liam indulged Louis and brought him water to counteract the alcohol. Liam stood nearby to make sure he was alright, only Louis felt amazing. He was high off of the environment and the praise from strangers surrounding him, carelessly dancing along to the music, offbeat and whimsical almost, until a blonde boy with blue eyes brighter than his, that he accidentally bumped into, brought him shots as an apology. He then led Louis to a booth full of people he'd never seen before but greeted him like an old friend, and he’d gotten separated from Liam. No loss there, really.

The alcohol flowed freely, numbing his thoughts until Harry was nothing but a distant memory, loosening Louis up until he was half on top of Niall, arms curled around the other boy’s waist, laughing at a story about cats. Harry loved cats. Louis took a shot. Then another. Niall was warm, loud, the greatest distraction Louis had ever hoped for, and if it weren't for him not so subtly elbowing Louis in the ribs and motioning across the room with his head, then he might not have seen the way a strange boy was eyeing him up and down, a hungry look in his eyes. He was too far gone to see much more than the sculpted features of his face and ink black hair, the way his thin frame stood strong against the wall of the club, but the smile that reached his eyes when he caught Louis staring back was more than enough reason for Louis to walk over there.

 

The boy smelled like Gucci and smoke, encompassing all of Louis' senses, driving him wild with just one touch. After a rather encouraging pep talk from Niall, which mostly consisted of lewd hand gestures, Louis left the booth, somehow managing to remember to program his number into Niall’s phone. The second Louis stepped out onto the dance floor, the other boy was walking towards him. It was cliche, the instant attraction he’d felt towards the slightly taller man coming his way, the way he couldn’t help licking his lips as his mind raced with anticipation - he wasn’t sure where he wanted this to lead.

It wasn’t long until the darker boy stood in front of him, dressed in black skinny jeans tight enough to rival Harry’s, hair perfectly quiffed, skin layered with a faint sheen of sweat which Louis attributed to his wearing a thick leather jacket inside the hot club. He scoffed a bit, raising an eyebrow at his new companion.

He leaned in, carefully tugging him closer with a loose grip on his forearm. “Saw you staring from all the way over there. Like what you see?” Louis ran his fingers down his arm, watching his reaction closely. The boy shivered, leaning in closer to Louis.

It was too dark to see much, but he felt the other boy nod. “I’m Zayn. And I saw you staring back.” Louis smiled, and everything felt right.

Their introductory conversation quickly turned into dancing, Louis' arse pressed against Zayn's crotch, Zayn leaning forward to kiss lightly along Louis' shoulders, hands on his hips to keep up their rhythm. Zayn was a bad idea, one that Louis wasn't willing to pass up.

Louis leaned back, head thrown to the side, wanting to feel more of Zayn, feel everything, and his eyes wandered around the dark room, briefly falling on Liam's disapproving glare near the bar. He turned around to face his dance partner, slotting a thigh between Zayn’s legs and getting a loud groan in response. Zayn was beautiful, tan skin and sparkling hazel eyes, confident bordering on cocky, and Louis couldn't help but kiss him everywhere. He started at his pink, slightly chapped lips, until he’d made his way down his neck, sucking a mark onto the smooth skin there. Zayn responded immediately, tilting his head to give Louis easier access, thumbs pressing harder into his hips, soft praises tumbling from his mouth whenever Louis bit at his skin. It’d been years since he’d kissed anyone other than Harry, _wanted_ anyone else, and despite what he’d had in mind for the night, he’d never imagined this. Zayn was beautiful, Zayn was there, and Louis couldn’t find it in him to ignore the desire that lined the based of his spine, urging him to take more of the delicious boy in front of him.

Louis felt himself hardening in his pants, carelessly rutting against Zayn's leg as he tossed his arms around Zayn’s neck, oblivious to the people that still surrounded them, the music blaring in their ears, but Zayn pulled away with a soft chuckle. Louis pouted rather pathetically at the loss of contact, chasing after Zayn for a bit.

Zayn ran his fingers lightly over Louis' cheek, the look on his face softer now, more fond. "Not here, babe. I don't give shows for free." With a wink, he moved his hand to link their fingers together, tugging at Louis to move, leading him through the maze of people and tables until they found the bathrooms.

Without bothering to ensure they were the only two in the damp room, Zayn let go of Louis only to push him against the door of the stall. It creaked with the weight of the two boys, and for a second Louis worried it’d break, but then Zayn’s lips met his, and -  Louis was overwhelmed because Zayn tasted like something he’d never get enough of, sweet but tangy from his cigarettes. He moaned against the boy’s lips, opening his mouth just enough to allow Zayn’s tongue to slip in at the same time his hands dipped into the waistband of his jeans. Louis could feel the outline of Zayn’s cock against his thighs, hot and heavy through the material of his jeans, and Louis wanted nothing more than to be completely wrecked by this person he’d only met an hour ago.

They kissed until it was nothing more than hot breaths against each other’s lips, Zayn’s hand inching slowly down towards his cock, until he was palming him through his boxers. An embarrassingly pathetic whine left Louis’ lips and he thrust upwards, wanting so much more than what Zayn was giving him.

Zayn’s voice was low when he spoke, breathless almost. “You sure you want this, babe?” Louis should have stopped to think. It would have been nothing to shake his head, say no sorry, that he wasn’t ready to go further than this, because he’d never imagined himself the type to cheat on his boyfriend, not on _Harry_. But Zayn’s eyes were full of want, Louis’ hesitancy causing his confidence to waver for a bit, and his fingers moved away from Louis’ dick and that -

“Just fucking touch me already, yeah?”

Zayn didn’t know about Harry, didn’t have to, and when Louis came in Zayn’s mouth, it wasn’t Harry’s name he said.

 

Louis woke up to a terrible headache, throat sore when he tried to call out for Harry, and his blanket laying on the floor, probably from his night of restless slumber. Harry hadn’t been home when he’d arrived, luckily, Louis too exhausted to do much more than take a long shower and fall asleep. He wondered if he was supposed to feel different, if he’d opened up a door that he couldn’t close.

Looking in the mirror, he looked no different. The same soft brown hair framed his forehead, scruffy beard in place, same arms, legs, everything. Yet it all felt so much stranger, like the image in the mirror wasn’t him anymore; as if overnight Louis had lost the ability to recognize himself.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. “You awake?” Harry’s voice wandered into the room, soft and hesitant, like Louis had gotten so used to hearing. Immediately all residual feelings of guilt faded away, noticing Harry’s tired eyes as he walked into the room, body dressed in the same clothes he’d worn the previous day.

It wasn’t that Louis was worried Harry was fucking around with Nick, because Nick had a boyfriend that he loved. But Harry had a tendency to focus on one person at a time, give them all of his attention, to forget all others who exist; like a child who’s given a new toy every week, tossing people aside like last season's Barbie dolls. Louis had known this when he started dating Harry, but years had passed and it seemed like Harry had no intentions of replacing Louis, not until he’d come home from university late at night, rambling away about a graduate student he’d met at an art show, throwing around phrases like “Oh, Nick is just so interesting” that drove Louis mad.

Harry was half in love with everyone he’d ever met and Louis didn’t like sharing.

Louis hummed in acknowledgement. “Went out with Grimshit last night?” His tone steady as he gave himself one final glance in the mirror before heading to the closet to find an outfit for the day.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t call him that.” He plopped down on the bed, grabbing the stuffed teddy bear Louis gave him for their two month anniversary. “And yeah. Did you have fun with Liam?”

Oh fuck, _Liam_.  Zayn had been the one to call him a cab after Louis had very generously sucked him off, giggling into his ear about how they should do this again, Louis was too giddy in his post orgasmal haze to protest. He hadn’t seen his friend since he’d danced with Zayn, hadn’t even thought to call him after he got home to see if he was okay. If there was a Guinness World Record for “quickest transition into a bad person” it would belong to Louis.

“Uh, yeah.” Louis replied, not looking back at Harry as he dug through their closet. Harry simply murmured “good” and fell asleep.

  


“What the hell is going on here?” Harry bellowed, running out from the bedroom in just his pants, every bit the disheveled mess Louis had grown to love, concerned by the cacophony of noise caused by Louis’ attempts at surprising Harry with breakfast in bed. Louis’ hair was a mess, flour painting his fringe, and he might have gotten chocolate syrup all over his face when he went to open the bottle he’d purchased; his brow was furrowed in concentration, lips scrunched up, essentially the embodiment of a frowny face emoji as he worked, undeterred by Harry’s interruption.

  
“Go the fuck back to bed,” he called out cooly, whisking the clumps of batter in the green bowl he’d bought for this occasion. Somehow it’d seemed really important to have green kitchenware at the time. A week after what he now referred to as That Night At The Club, Louis and Harry had been eating dinner on the couch together, not speaking or looking at each other at all, and Louis had started to think if this is what they’d been reduced to now, two strangers sharing the same space. Harry had a content look on his face but Louis wanted to know more, wanted to know what his day had been like, the things he’d learned - he just had no idea how to ask. There was also the thought of whether or not he should have had to ask in the first place; weren’t couples supposed to just.. talk? It was then he decided that no matter how hard it’d been to stop thinking about hazel brown eyes meeting his in a grimy bathroom, he wanted Harry. So that’s why he needed green plates and bowls, and to make Harry pancakes. It was a start, if anything.

  
Harry made his way over to the counter, a careful grin on his face as he approached the dangerzone. “You all right, Lou?”

  
For a brief second Louis paused, wiped his hands on his For Him apron he’d also bought, rushing over to boop Harry’s nose and nod. He was fine, just fine.

  
“Just making you breakfast in bed, which is why you need to get back in bed.” Harry being in the kitchen was ruining everything, honestly.

  
Harry laughed, loudly and beautifully, fixing his fringe as he walked towards Louis. “You? Cooking?” He chased after Louis, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him in for a hug. “I think that’d be poisonous, love.”   
Louis gave an indignant shout and untangled himself from Harry. “Oi, I’m not that bad.” He thought about it for a second. “Anymore. Plus I’ve printed a recipe out. So there.” He very maturely stuck his tongue out at Harry who just grinned. It felt nice, joking around for once, and Louis rolled his eyes as Harry closed in on him, tilting his chin upwards to meet him in a kiss. It was far from dirty, a simple press of their lips, but it lifted something in Louis’ spirits.

  
“You don’t have to waste your time anyway,” Harry started, kissing down Louis’ jaw to his chin. “Nick and the gang invited me to go out anyway.”

  
Louis dropped the whisk, turning to face Harry directly. He cocked his hips, crossing his arms across his chest, irritated look on his face. “Really? You’d rather go out with them than spend a morning with me?”

  
Harry looked genuinely confused, shock and hurt plastered all over his face, and Louis knew he was acting unnecessarily hysterical. “Uh I mean, we made this plan ages ago. I can’t just - do you want to?” Harry stuttered, voice pleading for Louis to just accept his denial. Again.

  
Louis shook his head, ripping off the apron and throwing it on the ground. If Harry wanted to go out with his friends, he was more than welcome, and really, Louis was the idiot for thinking things would change just because he wanted them to. He left Harry standing in the kitchen, calling out for him, excuse after excuse flying out of his mouth. Louis crawled into bed and slept.

Harry came home later that night, reeking of someone else’s perfume and secondhand smoke. He knocked before opening the door to the bedroom, and something broke inside Louis that night, because they were walking on eggshells around each other, not wanting to break each other more than they already had. Louis averted his gaze as Harry undressed, climbing into bed with hesitancy outlining his every move, as if he were waiting for a signal that this was okay, that Louis wasn’t going to kick him out.

  
Louis lifted up part of the covers, signaling “come here” with his head, and Harry gave a visible sigh of relief as he bounced to Louis’ side, curling up beside him like a cat. Louis tucked the blanket over the both of them, wrapping his right arm around Harry’s shoulders, lazily petting his hair. Silence, Louis found, wasn’t all bad. They fell asleep closer than they had in months, and Louis reveled in the heat from Harry’s body.

  
He still woke up alone, but the heartbreak was normal, by now.

 

The plan was to go out with Niall, drag Liam along so they’d have someone to take care of them, and get properly wasted. But life was silly, and Louis had just ended a hellish week at uni, full of tests and papers and presentations he couldn't be arsed to care about, not to mention Harry canceling their dinner date to see some stupid pretentious french film with the Grim Reaper. So while the plan was a fun lad's night, the universe threw Zayn in Louis' way, placed him at the corner between his favorite coffee shop and his flat, where he’d planned to spend the afternoon reading about Ancient Egypt.

Harry had called him last minute to say he wouldn't be able to show up to their study date because he had to help Nick with some painting crap, leaving Louis seeing red in the middle of the street, tugging at his hair because he was just so tired of Harry's excuses, sick of the dimpled smile and shining green eyes that weren't directed at him anymore. Louis wasn't stupid, unless you counted being in love as stupid. Willful ignorance, Louis decided, is self preservation.

Maybe it'd been a mistake to think someone so full of affection could settle down so young. Louis felt Harry fading away, and it was like grasping at straws, trying to keep Harry for himself. Before he could let himself think too much about the imminent future, Louis took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes to keep the tears away, because he was a grown adult who could handle anything.

He repeated it over and over, a mantra that he clung to until it was all he heard. It was when his mind had finally quieted down the doubt that he heard a quiet voice call out,  "Louis?"

He frowned as he turned towards the strange voice, confused. Only then he saw Zayn, breathtakingly gorgeous in the light of day, beanie on his head, skinny jeans and Doc Martens and - hipster glasses, for fuck’s sake.

His lips turned upwards into a grin. "Zayn! What are you doing here?"

He stepped forward, as if going in for a hug, except he wasn't sure he was allowed. Zayn smiled nervously, biting at his lower lip as he pointed to the shop entrance. "Came to get a drink and read a bit. You headed out?"

Louis paused to think this time, weighing his options. He could lie to himself and say that Zayn hadn’t made him want to fix everything with Harry, that Zayn was someone he would be interested in if the circumstances were different but - Louis had no idea. Zayn looked at him like he had been expecting rejection, but not unfriendly, and Louis liked that, liked that he’d been able to move past his own internal struggle to maintain things with Harry with little difficulty after the first week.

It was a split second decision, and something told Louis that it’d be worth it. He shook his head. "Nah. Thought I'd join you, yeah?"

Zayn answered with a blinding smile, tongue pressing against his teeth. They stepped inside the shop, and Louis shut his phone off. There were no calls or messages from Harry when he turned it back on.

 

See - Louis had wanted to go out, but it hadn’t felt right, not after he’d spent the afternoon having tea with Zayn. They’d talked about the things they liked in university, about how Zayn lived with his two best friends and about how he hadn’t spoken to his family in a few weeks. Louis mentioned playing football growing up, the way the sport made him feel alive; it was a crash course in getting to know each other, an emotional follow up to their physical explorations, and Louis welcomed it, reveled in the way Zayn looked at him with that hint of wonder in his eyes, like he was glad to be spending his time with Louis.

Louis craved attention, chased that feeling that let him know he mattered, and Zayn gave him that without prying or overstepping boundaries set by the fact that this was only their second meeting. Louis was confused, because he was finally getting what he wanted, but he ached for Harry, wanted his boyfriend to be the one asking him where he saw himself in five years. Instead he was out, doing god knows what with god knows who, and Louis was _tired_ of the emptiness in his chest. Zayn grazed his arm with gentle touches, laughed in all the right places, gently searching for his ankle under the table and wrapping his around Louis’. It was a comfortable familiarity that Louis had only experienced once before, with Harry, but to a lesser extreme. His mind compared the two, pointing out how Zayn wasn’t as tall as his boyfriend, how nervous he looked when he reached to take Louis’ hand in his when Harry’d never bothered to question whether Louis had been interested in him; how Zayn tended to go soft in the blink of an eye, resigning himself to nodding along to whatever Louis said, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, not looking up until Louis nudged him and asked if he was okay.

Zayn wasn’t Harry, wasn’t the person Louis woke up to every so often, and he wouldn’t be. Zayn and Harry - well. Louis couldn’t wake up next to someone he didn’t love, no matter how many times he woke up alone, and at the end of the day, he loved Harry. Zayn was different, something new that gave Louis that rush that had faded over the years of routine, and Louis fancied him. Not in the way he did Harry, but there was an undeniable attraction there, bubbling on the surface and waiting to explode, the urge to scratch the itch left by Zayn Malik.

So they’d finished their tea, closed their textbooks that had been ignored the entire time, standing up and walking to the door. Louis blushed when Zayn linked their hands together, the warmth from the other boy lighting up something he couldn’t quite place.

They lingered awkwardly by the door, Louis nibbling on his lower lip as he watched Zayn. “So I had a great time,” he began, clearing his throat when his voice waivered. “Maybe, maybe you’d like to come out with me tonight?”

Zayn was silent, looking like he was thinking about it. “Hm, dunno. Are you going to ask for my number this time?” Zayn tightened his grasp on Louis’ hand, chuckling as he stepped forward to press a kiss on Louis’ cheek.

Louis blushed but rolled his eyes, because Zayn was a dork underneath it all. “I suppose I could do that, yeah.”

 

“You invited who?!” Liam choked on his tea, nearly spilling it all over the couch as he tried to process what Louis had just told him. Louis shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal over it.

“Zayn, I met him the other night at the club with you.” Louis Tomlinson was the epitome of nonchalance.

“You mean you had sex with him in a grimy bathroom the other night.” Liam frowned, setting his mug on the nearest table. Funny how he knew, when Louis had never said as much.

Again, Louis shrugged. “I did, yeah.” He felt uncomfortable talking about this, had avoided Liam for a few days after that night at the club so he wouldn’t have to deal with this lecture. Liam hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen what went down between the two, and Louis felt shitty that Liam just assumed they’d hooked up, that Louis would be so quick to do that. Maybe he felt worse because it’d been true. Whatever, Louis was just really fucking confused, because he didn’t regret it, not at all, but it hadn’t quite done anything to extinguish the pain that stirred inside him every time Harry didn’t look at him.

Louis was sat on the same couch as Liam, legs tucked under him, cradling a pillow in his arms. He felt a bit like crying, honestly. Liam watched him with careful eyes, and it was the intensity that they held that made Louis realize he needed to get it all sorted.

“Harry’s like, the love of my life you know?” Louis began, voice cracking on the last word. He took a deep breath before continuing, scooting closer to Liam. He’d never talked about it out loud before, opting instead to think about his relationship problems late at night, silently. “But lately, he’s just not around. I’ve tried to talk to him, get him to go out with me to our usual spots or just. Be with me.” Louis trailed off because he was not going to cry.

Liam threw him a sympathetic look, obviously still unsure what his position here was, stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Louis.. mate, you know I’ll never judge you and I’m always, always here for you but are you sure you know what you’re getting into?” Liam’s tone was earnest, and Louis closed the gap between them, leaning into Liam’s chest and Liam quickly held him back.

“I just want someone to care, to think I’m special. Harry doesn’t, he’s just not into me anymore. I think he’s going to leave soon and I’m not sure why he hasn’t already.”

“Harry loves you, Lou. He really does.” Honesty dripped over every carefully spoken word from Liam, and Louis found it almost possible to let himself believe it. He shook his head slowly and looked up at Liam, sad smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t think he does, Li. He hardly even looks at me anymore.” Louis clutched the pillow tighter to his chest, no longer meeting Liam's eyes. It hurt, felt like his whole body was lighter, weaker maybe, because Zayn was an easy out but nothing about this was simple. “Maybe it’s just one of those things that faded away,” he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, half a sob coming out right after; somehow everything had ended up so fucked up, and Louis wasn’t sure the blame was entirely on Harry anymore.

 

So Louis loved Harry, always would and always had, even when Zayn met up with the three boys outside the club, immediately gravitating towards Louis and wrapping his thin arm around his waist; Louis missed Harry and sent him texts that went unanswered, ranging from _wish you were here xx_ to _guess you're having fun somewhere else_ after checking Harry’s twitter, missed him even when Zayn draped himself all over Louis on the dance floor, pressing their chests together as they danced, laughing away all of Louis' insecurities, entirely oblivious to the murderous glances Liam threw their way. And Louis adored everything about Harry, the way his green eyes sparkled when he spoke about something he felt passionately about in that smooth, languid way of his, not once disappearing from the back of his mind, not even when the buzz from the alcohol had him kissing Zayn in front of Niall and Liam, Niall snapping a picture and uploading it to Instagram with _get a room you tossers ! Wey hey !!_ as the caption.

Most of all, he wished it were Harry who'd held his hand at the end of the night, kissing his cheek softly before stopping for a second to whisper _come to mine_? But the entire night had been full of Zayn, and Louis was buzzing with the feel of it. Niall drunkenly led them to the taxi area, sporadically bursting into song and leaning a bit too sloppily against Liam for either of them to be able to walk properly. Zayn held his hand tightly, giggling and nuzzling his face against the crook of Louis’ neck, hardly any space between the two of them as they made their way down the street.

Liam got Niall set up in his own taxi, handing the driver an appropriate amount of money and apologizing in advance  for Niall’s nausea. The driver cursed at them but drove off, none of them too worried because Niall lived in that same general area they all did, around the university.

“Well, best be off. I’ve got work tomorrow. Louis, are we splitting a cab?” Liam stated clinically, lacking any sort of expression that would reassure Louis that Liam wasn’t angry, rubbing his gloved hands together to try and shake off the cold.

Zayn nudged Louis, eyebrows raised and a faint smirk on his lips as if saying _get on with it_ , and Louis laughed humorlessly at that. “Uh, I think I'm going to spend the night with, uh, with Zayn?” He cleared his throat, gripping Zayn’s hand tighter. Liam was unsurprised, but still disappointed, mouth pressed into a thin line, shrugging after a short pause.

“Right.”

Louis smiled, but it faltered, not moving past his mouth. “If you see Harry in the morning, tell him I stayed with you?” Zayn was too busy tapping on his phone to notice the way Louis’ eyes flashed with something similar to guilt at the mention of his boyfriend’s name. Liam nodded, still frowning, before pulling Louis into a tight embrace that said everything Louis hadn’t wanted to hear. Zayn moved to shake Liam’s hand, but the boy with usually friendly brown eyes and an even friendlier demeanor blatantly ignored him, waving goodbye to Louis, who mumbled a friendly response before leaning closer to Zayn, apology on the tip of his tongue before Zayn shook his head knowingly.

“He’ll get used to me, Lou. Give him time.” Louis scrunched his nose up at that, not sure whether to react positively or be wary at the implication of Zayn sticking around, because it had all seemed so temporary, that Zayn would be there on nights where Harry wasn’t and that was that. But lines were fading, and it’d been a week where Zayn hadn’t left his mind, not even when he’d laid in bed next to Harry, hands entwined as they watched television, Harry snuggled up next to him, and - that had to mean something, right?

 

Zayn’s hand rested easily in his as the two made their way to Zayn’s apartment, and Louis realized that his silence meant nothing, not when he’d followed behind Zayn so quickly, nipping at his heels when they walked up the three steps to his building, bumping into him when Zayn went to open the door, their laughter echoing in the empty corridor. The inside of Zayn’s place didn’t differ from his own very much, Louis noted as he glanced around the living room - the furniture was worn but in good condition, and there were books thrown around everywhere, like Zayn couldn’t be bothered to put them away after endless nights of studying. The two were greeted by Zayn’s roommate, who gave a small gasp when he saw Zayn, shaking off the surprise of seeing Louis stroll cautiously into the room after him.  

  
“All right, Z?” He asked, watching as Zayn closed the door, Louis awkwardly pacing between the living room and the kitchen, where Zayn was headed.  

  
Zayn smiled, eyes lighting up as he shared a look with his friend, and Louis was almost upset he couldn’t understand it. “Yeah, I’m fine. This is Louis. Louis, this is Danny.” Louis walked over to shake his hand, small under the intense glare from Danny.

  
“I’ve seen you around on campus, yeah,” Danny nodded, not kindly. “Usually you’ve got a curly haired lad around your arm, though.”

  
Louis’ blood ran cold. “Uh yeah. We uh.” He scratched at the back of his neck, as if by digging his nails into his skin, he’d have the option of not answering. “It’s like. Not a thing.”  

  
Smooth, Louis, really.

  
Zayn made a thoughtful noise before coming over to kiss his cheek lightly, leading him away to what he assumed was his room. Louis glanced behind his back as Zayn pointed out the different rooms and items that he deemed important, meeting Danny’s eyes, an entirely unconvinced look drawn on his face.

  
“Good night, Danny,” Zayn said, a bit wistfully. Louis stayed silent.

 

The bedroom was nothing special, except for how Louis felt like the posters on the wall told the story of the Zayn he had yet to learn - musicians, superheroes, art, all different parts of Zayn that Louis had only begun to tap into - his bed near the window with closed curtains and a small bedside table with a half empty bottle of water. They hardly spoke, but then again, there had been no need. Zayn smiled at Louis, awkwardly moving around as Louis stood almost frozen by the door.

  
“Are you going to come in?” Zayn taunted, finally settling down atop his bed after kicking off his shoes and socks. Louis sneered at him, overcompensating, because he was nervous now. Zayn watched with tired eyes as Louis joined him, expertly throwing himself onto the scratchy burgundy blanket clad bed, until his arms were thrown around Zayn, pulling him closer until their bodies melded together, an endless stream of limbs and heat, Zayn holding Louis like he meant something; Louis hadn't drunk nearly enough to explain why he curled into Zayn's side in response, why his instinct was to gaze serenely when Zayn's hands made their way to tug gently at his hair, not enough to excuse the comfort he gathered from _this_ -

"Want to get ready for bed?" Zayn mumbled, lips pressed right by Louis' ear, but still so quiet, like he was afraid of asking.

If it were any other time, Louis might have made a comment about how he's always ready, but the moment felt too fragile, like any sudden movements and Zayn would be scared away.

Everything about Zayn contradicted itself, Louis was finding out, from his gorgeous looks to his shy way of approaching Louis, to the way he loved to go out and managed to keep up high grades. It was too much, but Louis thought that might have been normal for Zayn.

Louis nodded, pushing himself away from Zayn and rolling off the bed, because for a moment he’d forgotten just how bad of an idea this was, that he had someone (ideally) waiting for him at home, and the need to ground himself was strong; he needed to remind himself of what he was doing - cheating - and why. The buttons on his shirt were too small for his uncoordinated tipsy fingers, so he fumbled around, shoulders high and body stiff, until his eyes met Zayn’s across the room. It’s like their bright hazel color had a guilt removing property, because Louis stripped down to his pants without an ounce of shame, watching the way Zayn’s eyes went wide.

  
Louis raised an eyebrow at him, innocent as ever. “Ready yet?” Like the first night at the club, he had no idea where this would lead, but now he knew exactly what he wanted. And that involved Zayn Malik removing his clothing a bit faster.

Zayn was slow to react, casting his gaze downwards as Louis built his confidence up more - there was still doubt in Louis’ mind that this was happening, that someone as seemingly perfect as Zayn could be interested in the mess that was Louis Tomlinson, but Zayn had yet to run away, so. Louis supposed it would be best to just accept it. The two met at the edge of the bed, small smiles tugging at their lips as they took in their disheveled states. Louis threw himself on top of Zayn, laughing at Zayn’s surprised reaction at hitting the bed, and it was a little painful to be laying half on/half off the comfortable mattress, but Zayn looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes, and -

  
Zayn broke the silence first, bursting into loud laughter as Louis tried - and failed - to drag both of them upwards towards the headboard. “You smell like alcohol and chips.”

  
Louis pouted, going to push Zayn away but ending up completely straddling him. Maybe it was a physical Freudian slip - or something.

  
“Well you smell like expensive and - gross.”

  
Zayn hummed something that sounded like “It’s Gucci”, squirming around until Louis relented and climbed off of him, rolling over until Zayn could settle in as the big spoon. Their hands found each other, fingers intertwined and Louis fell asleep to the sound of Zayn’s quiet breathing, the heat coming from his body serving as a blanket, the only way to explain the reason for his smile would be “content.”

 

It didn’t stop after that, is the thing. Louis made his way home after that, sauntering into his flat early the next morning, freshly showered with half faded thumbprints on his hips and he knew what his choice was. Harry hadn't blown up at him when he got home, simply greeted him with a fond grin and a kiss on the cheek, completely in the dark about the way Zayn's scent now clung to Louis' skin. Louis found it even easier this time to pretend it never happened, like his nights weren't spent exchanging secretive texts with Zayn as Harry lay beside him.Nothing about it seemed melodramatic, if Louis were honest. Harry cooked him breakfast, woke him with kisses and the occasional blow job that Louis felt guilty for enjoying, but their fundamental problem  stayed the same. He just had an out now, a way to get his revenge, to deal with the loss that came with Harry's dimpled smile that signaled he was leaving now.

 

 


	2. Wishing For Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How’d you get this, Louis?”  
> Louis’ mind wasn’t working, hadn’t been since they’d started playing, and it slipped out easily, left his tongue before his brain could stop it. “Not you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe my entire story to Louise, honestly. Thank you so much for always being the one to bounce ideas with me, reading THREE DIFFERENT DRAFTS OF THIS CHAPTER, for always encouraging me, and just, general perfection. As always, thank you to Harry Not Styles for the beta, sorry for bugging you, but whatever.  
> I'm sorry this update took so long, but I was busy filling out applications for college [wish me luck!]. I should have time now. I split this chapter in two, and I might add another one, but I just felt this was the best way to end this.  
> Chapter title from "Long Live" by Taylor Swift, which made me feel things earlier, so, that's why. 
> 
> [in case it matters, which I don't think it should, there's implied top!Harry here, but like shh just embrace it, it's all feelings anyway.]

Louis hadn’t meant to fall so far behind in his coursework, but he had, and as he headed to the library in the middle of heavy rain, dripping wet and exhausted, Harry’s warning from months ago echoed in his head. He’d scoffed at it, rolling his eyes as he walked from the kitchen, tapping Harry’s nose in the most condescending way possible as he stated that classes like psychopharmacology and neurobiology were “the plight of the psychology major.” Climbing up the rickety stairs of the old building at six o’clock at night after an eight hour shift at the coffee shop proved Harry right, which was annoying as all hell.

Aside from the physical toll the tiredness had on his body, Louis’ only recent companion had been the DSM V, and not Zayn, his mistress, as Liam so frequently liked to refer to him in the texts he sent that Louis left unanswered. He missed Zayn, more than he let himself admit during daylight, resigning their interactions to secretive flirty texts while Harry slept, cooked, or did whatever he did when he fucked off and left Louis to his own devices. It worked.

 

Four hours after Louis had found an empty study room, its walls covered in motivational posters that only served to highlight how tiny it was, table in the middle of the room taking up most of the available space, Louis allowed himself a break, rubbing at his eyes and letting out a whine even though no one was there with him. He'd properly diagnosed four psychopaths, read a case study and brushed up on some vocabulary, ignoring the various times his phone had buzzed in his pocket. Focus, Louis had yelled at himself, he could do that, and he had. He felt vaguely proud. Except when Zayn's name flashed on the tiny screen when he fished out his phone to text Harry, highlighting the most recent Whatsapp message sent only two minutes ago, asking "which room are you in?" Louis nibbled on his bottom lip, phone in hand, considering his options. He could ignore the message, go back to studying for an exam he was sure to fail anyway, or, take a break and invite Zayn to join him. There’d never really been a question of what to do, he thought, as he sent out a reply.

Twenty minutes later, Louis jumped when he heard the telltale squeak of the door opening, his chair inadvertently scooting backward. Zayn greeted him with a small smile as he opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit cramped room, not hesitating before getting comfortable.

“Hard day?” Zayn asked with a knowing look on his face, and Louis watched as he settled down, not a bit of him soaked despite the storm going on outside. Zayn got to work after sitting down close next to Louis, grabbing his sketchbook and pencil. It had always something Louis couldn’t help but be mesmerized by, fascinated by the way Zayn’s hands created the most beautiful pictures he’d ever seen, but he tore his eyes away from the images Zayn so easily created, forcing his attention back on serial killers. He had work to do, unfortunately.

“Hard week,” Louis eventually replied, exhaling on a loud sigh, a screeching noise disturbing the calm that’d come over him when Zayn arrived as he turned his chair to face his companion. He blew a kiss towards Zayn before lifting his legs up and letting them drop on Zayn’s legs, but Zayn was too busy with whatever he was sketching to pay attention, so he just rolled his eyes and kept working. Something stirred inside Louis, a memory maybe, or a reminder of why he sought out Zayn in the first place, that sinking feeling of pay attention to me and what am I doing wrong engulfing him for a second before realizing he was the one in control here, the one who called the shots with Zayn.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” Louis dug his heel into Zayn’s thigh harder than normal for a friendly gesture. Demanding. Zayn winced and slapped his foot. “Don’t tell me you’re stalking me. I regret giving you my room number, creep.”

Zayn shrugged, no longer drawing but not quite looking directly at Louis. “Danny works at the front desk. He saw you come in and told me to come rescue you with cookies and my fantastic personality.”

“Sounds like he wanted to torture me, to be honest. You didn’t even bring cookies.”

Zayn laughed and it lit Louis up to see the way his eyes crinkled and sparkled, almost too cliche to be real, an exceptionally gorgeous creature directing such a beautiful sight at him. Louis returned the laugh with a small one of his own. Zayn had reached into his bag and pulled out a small container with what Louis presumed to be baked goods. Louis really liked Zayn, and he liked chocolate chips. It was a win-win.

“Shut up and study, asswipe.”

So Louis did, but not before scoffing at the insult, dropping his legs off of Zayn’s lap and jumping up to twist hard at his nipples. The angry glare he got in return was more than enough to satisfy him, for now.

 

There was a strange sense of domesticity in the air as the two worked, Louis only speaking when he found something in his reading interesting, Zayn mumbling to himself more than to anyone else, understanding each other in ways that should have been impossible considering most of their interactions had taken place via phone; leading texts that were never meant to mean as much as they did to Louis. Zayn had become someone Louis confided in, somehow, someone he called just because he wanted to, and Louis had tried to keep things simple at first, reducing Zayn to someone he fucked occasionally, but the last time Louis had stayed over they’d stayed up the whole night talking, learning each other by memory and touch, and it was all so new to Louis, Zayn was so new, that it was hard to ignore the feelings that crept up on him, especially when Zayn seemed genuinely interested in understanding the way Louis worked. Zayn was there for him in ways Harry wasn’t, hadn’t been for a while, but Louis wanted so much more. He wondered if there had ever been anything simple at this whole situation, at all.

Another twenty minutes passed but Louis’ concentration had flown out the window, his mind racing with thoughts about how much he’d missed Zayn’s company. He drummed his fingers hard against the table, his leg shaking, all annoyance and desperation running through him. Louis hadn’t even known what he wanted until Zayn had shown up, and maybe that meant something and maybe it didn’t, either way Zayn knew enough to not acknowledge Louis’ antics. Louis raised an eyebrow, smirking and sliding a hand inside his own messy bag, pulling out a piece of scrap paper that may have been important at one point. He rolled it carelessly into a lumpy ball, aiming it somewhere along Zayn’s head, and threw it.

The crumpled ball hit Zayn above his ear and Louis’ smile shone like success at the startled noise the boy let out in protest, squirming in his chair like a deer in headlights. It was adorable, to Louis.

“What’d you do that for?” Zayn rubbed at his ear, looking rather displeased, and the butterflies and anxiety in Louis’ stomach fluttered at that.

“I’m bored. Dunno why you came here if you weren’t going to entertain me.” The double entendre hung in the air, heavy and loaded, leading and urging.

Zayn was quiet for a second, looking like he was thinking. “I had a few ideas, but you were busy ignoring me. I’m studying instead.”

Louis knew Zayn was joking about being ignored, but that hit him close to home, reminded him of the ache in his chest every time he opened the door to an empty room, but he wasn’t wrong. Distancing himself in person had been made easier by the influx of academic work, but it was welcome. He shook his head, moving closer to Zayn who’d already shoved his work away. He motioned for Zayn to sit on his lap, and it was awkward on the stiff chairs of the study room, but they managed. Zayn rested his head on Louis’ and Louis breathed him in, loving the way their bodies felt against each other - solid, soft, inviting. He leaned down to tap at Zayn’s nose with his own before pressing their lips together, no hesitation.

“I’m sorry.”

Zayn mumbled “no” against Louis’ lips, dismissing the apology as quickly as it’d been mumbled, shifting to straddle him. Louis’ laugh was strained with the weight of Zayn on him, and he nearly fell over with the force of Zayn’s incoming kiss, had to grab at the edge of the table to keep them both upright while the other rested casually on Zayn’s hip. Their lips melded together sweetly, delicately, and Louis wished he could kiss Zayn as fiercely as he wanted, as often as he wanted, maybe shove him to the floor and grind against him until they came, but it wasn’t that kind of moment, and Louis just -

“Don’t wanna do this here.” Zayn pulled off shyly, regretful, but breathless, like the moment had knocked the wind out of him too. Louis was stunned for a second, trying to piece together what he thought this had been leading to, but he took the hand Zayn extended to him, walking towards the bookshelf on the other side of the room. Zayn’s eyes were dark, lust filled, and he kept worrying his bottom lip between his teeth like he could still feel the ghost traces of Louis’ lips, which Louis thought was stupid, since he was the one who stopped the kissing.

“Help me find a book to read while you continue studying.”

Louis came to a complete stop. “You’re so weird.”

“What about this?” Zayn pointed to an encyclopedia, picking it up and inspecting it with the utmost care, and it drove Louis mad that Zayn could recover so easily, pretend like he wasn’t as affected as Louis felt.

He tugged on Zayn’s arm, full on pouting, “I don’t care.”

“That’s a bit rude,” Zayn tsk-ed at him. Louis rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Getting me riled up and not finishing is more rude, I think.”

Zayn’s laugh was one of Louis’ new favorite sounds, probably. In the silence of the room it sounded like his favorite song. “Just come to mine after. We can order some takeaway.”

Louis considered it for a minute. “I want it now.” He didn’t really, but.

“We are in a place of higher education. It’s like, sacred.”

Louis thought his dick was more sacred than books.

Zayn walked away, scoping out the books, and that - Louis was no longer in charge, was being tossed around by Zayn, though he figured it was more flirtation that deliberately acting out his worst fears, and he knew Zayn wanted him on some level, wouldn’t be there if he didn’t, but Harry had messed with him too much for too long. Louis just wasn’t sure anymore.

There was this urge he had, to shove Zayn against a bookshelf and kiss him until he felt the same way Louis did, bite at his neck until his blood turned to understanding that it was all a punishment for not being Harry, not being enough to change the way Louis thought. But the small burst of arousal he’d felt when they’d been kissing had faded away, doubt spreading all over Louis’ body until his fingertips went numb with the same emptiness he felt around Harry.

The moment passed, but the side effects remained, and Zayn had settled on The Stranger by Camus, the same book Harry had read two months earlier after a suggestion from Nick, and the irony wasn’t missed on Louis.

There was no point in studying any longer, and Louis told Zayn as much, packing up his stuff with more animosity than necessary. Louis was more angry at himself for not being able to properly have an affair, of not being able to push Harry entirely out of his mind. If Zayn noticed the change in his mood, he said nothing, instead he took Louis’ hand in his as they walked off campus, pressing into his side like reassurance that he didn’t know he had to give. Louis needed to do something soon, had to decide what he wanted from Zayn. He could blame the contradicting feelings he was having on school, on Harry, on anything but himself, but he knew this wasn’t Harry. It was all him.

The ground was muddy and the air smelled like rain, but Zayn’s hand was warm and his hair seemed immune to the wind. There was nothing perfect about it, especially when Louis tripped over a rock and one of his notebooks fell on the ground and Zayn’s reaction was to laugh rather than pick it up, but -

Zayn kissed his cheek with a faint blush that made no sense considering they’d been in more intimate situations. Louis’ heart swelled involuntarily, still contemplating, hesitating, like it was expecting more hurt before any happiness could be obtained.

“I’m sorry I stopped us from having library sex, Lou,” Zayn began, voice quiet as if anyone else at the bus stop they frequent were seen or cared. “I just wanted to make sure you want this as much as I do.”

 

“Whoops!” Louis giggled, drink sloshing out of his cup and onto an unassuming partygoer he’d collided with, before he stumbled away. He was more than a little tipsy by now, cheeks flushed red with his fringe sticking to his brow, bouncing from person to person and clinging to them like his life depended on their physical contact. He let himself get lost in the blur of the crowd that had managed to show up for his birthday, or well. The day before, since his coincided with Jesus’. Louis might have resentment issues. Whatever.

Harry had planned the whole thing, which explained why every other song that blasted through their crappy speakers featured a banjo. Usually Louis would have cringed at that, stating his obvious distaste for such pretension, but Louis loved him so much, appreciated the lengths he’d gone to ensure the menu was exactly to Louis’ taste, the texts and phone calls he’d gotten during lectures asking if the things Harry had picked out were good enough. If anything, Louis felt he wasn’t good enough, but.

“Hey baby!”

Louis had been mid spin, slurring out “have you seen Harry” to anyone he came in contact with, but he recognized that voice as belonging to Harry. His smile brightened instantly when Harry waved from the doorway of the kitchen, where he’d apparently been hiding with Nick and their latest friend, Matty, and Louis frowned, because it was his birthday party and he wanted to be with Harry.

He hadn’t invited Zayn, but he wasn’t going to think about that.

It took him longer than it should have to reach Harry, but Louis was determined to get there despite his uncooperative appendages, despite Nick’s glare that warned him to stay away, because he deserved this. Deserved Harry. Wanted Harry to be there for him, to give him attention, and the alcohol coursing through his veins was encouragement enough for him to get it.

Harry had extended his arms, and Louis sort of crashed into them, feeling warm all over from the affection. His eyes closed as he sighed, resting his head along the crook of Harry’s neck.

“Mine.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but Harry laughed and Louis felt more relieved, more comfortable around Harry than he had in weeks.

“Yeah, babe. Yours.”

Stan spent the majority of the night trying to separate the two, lecturing Louis that he had friends other than Harry he had to socialize with. Louis frowned, brows furrowed in disbelief, because Stan didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom what living without guarantee of Harry’s attention felt like. Louis counterbalanced Stan’s rude interruptions by peppering sweet (and not so sweet) kisses to Harry’s face and neck at every opportune moment, and Harry beamed the entire night, bursting out into random speeches to praise him. They got Stan to take a picture of just the two of them, Harry’s arms thrown around Louis in a possessive hug, Louis’ grin huge as Harry kissed his cheek, and they immediately uploaded it to Instagram, the caption a single heart emoji. It was too much and not enough, barely making up for so much deprivation, but Louis basked in the feel of it anyway, taking in the cheers from all of his drunk friends, and drunk boyfriend and it -

It was fucking brilliant, honestly.

 

“Hold on, I fucking love this song!”

Nearly everyone had left the party by now, too drunk or unwilling to stay the night and help the two clean in the morning, and Louis thought that said a lot about the Christmas spirit. There hadn’t been much of a dance floor, though that hadn’t stopped anyone from jumping along to the music, only Zendaya’s “Replay” had started playing, and Louis loved that song, wanted to have one final dance with Harry, because he couldn’t be sure what the morning would bring.

“Come dance with me.”

The beat filled the room and Louis swiveled his hips as gracefully as possible until his back was pressed to Harry’s chest, his ass grinding into Harry’s crotch to the tune of the song. He reached his arm behind his back to pull Harry closer by the neck, grinding down hard as he did so.

The few remaining guests were probably staring, and Louis was sure the blurry glow around Harry was more a result of the alcohol than anything else, but he couldn’t help but press harder into Harry’s chest.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this, babe,” Harry moaned, digging his thumbs into Louis’ hips every time he bucked slightly, “but we still have guests.”

“I don’t care. I just want you.”

Harry muttered a sad sounding “fuck” before stopping all movement and turning Louis so they were face to face. For a moment Louis was truly scared, fearing that maybe Harry’s behavior extended to fucking too, but his boyfriend looked like he was battling a struggle within himself, obviously hard in his too-tight skinny jeans. Louis was proud, almost. More like relieved.

“Listen to me, Louis,” Harry’s tone was commanding, so unlike his usual demeanor that Louis was shocked for a second. “You’re going to wait, okay?” Harry opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows, staring Louis down until he nodded.

Harry seemed placated by that, shoulders relaxing immediately. “Good boy. Then when everyone leaves, I’m going to fuck you until you forget how to talk.”

 

The thing was, that Louis hadn’t felt like Harry wanted him in months. By now it was like that’s all Louis had been repeating, to himself and to Liam, but it was true, quite possibly the only thing Louis knew for certain. But Harry was there now, kissing his way down Louis’ body, showing every part of him how much Harry loved him with every bite to his skin, and all Louis could do was let him. He let Harry take over, let Harry tell him when he was being good and when he was bad, and Louis could hardly take the fire that engulfed his body when Harry finally lowered his lips onto the head of his cock, crying out with how much relief he felt. Harry worked him slowly with his mouth, using his other hand to palm at his balls, and Louis felt on edge from all the sensations.

Harry bobbed his head, taking more and more of Louis in, until he took him all the way down, and the warmth of his mouth spread all over Louis, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted Harry to be happy with him, always, to tell him that he was good enough. With Zayn, Louis had to be in control, had to take charge. Because with Zayn, it’s punishment, and with Harry, he matters.

Louis stopped thinking, started feeling, and he had to hold back tears when Harry pulled off, trailing his fingers around a bruise on his stomach.

“How’d you get this, Louis?”

Louis’ mind wasn’t working, hadn’t been since they’d started playing, and it slipped out easily, left his tongue before his brain could stop it. “Not you.”

Harry kept quiet, leaning down until his lips hovered above the spot where Zayn had left his mark, inspecting it while Louis lay there, unable to do much but whine, his thoughts clouded with the need for release. Eventually Harry pressed a kiss down on the spot, biting and sucking harder than he had earlier, and Louis knew he’d have something to show for it for weeks.

There was a moment where Louis was sure Harry was going to stop everything, just red out and leave, but the only thing that happened was Harry looked him in the eye and said “I love you.”

Louis thought maybe he meant it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come harass me to write on [tumblr](http://androidau.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/brittastyleses) i like discussing my fics and STUFF also I promise there will be more HL, I swear, I'm getting there.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update this every two/three weeks, but maybe faster if you guys comment or hound me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/brittastyleses) or [tumblr](http://brittastyles.tumblr.com/)


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